The Next Morning

Sunlight broke through the sliding glass door and hit Meyer straight in his stupid hungover face. Nursing a bottle of everclear on a train was about as smart an idea as blood doping and this morning, at 7:16am on a beautiful Saturday, the life-giving sun was making him pay for the poor utilization of his decision making skills.

"Son of a bitch," he muttered, rolling back over to bury his head in the pillow. He knocked his ankle against the davenport's wooden armrest, temporarily making him forget about the pain in his head, and he howled into a blue stegosaurs' mouth, then started laughing as it reverberated up his leg. "Ah ha ha ha, fffffffffuck!" he yelled into the pillow.

The TV was still on; he'd forgotten to set the sleep timer, and it was apparently time for a cartoon about a little boat that wanted to teach kids life lessons about being polite or waiting their turn or whatever. Meyer wasn't paying attention; his focus was split between the shuffling he heard coming down the hallway and the searing pain in his ankle.

Arnaud was up already? he thought, sticking his head over the top of the couch, and as if to answer the question he hadn't said aloud, Arnaud came bounding down the hall in a pair of cotton gym shorts that left little to the imagination and a tanktop emblazoned with the words "Hollyhawk High Herons". His hair was tied back in a bun; he looked like he hadn't slept well but otherwise seemed pretty awake for this early on a Saturday.

"Mornin', Meyer!" the aardwolf chimed, to which the hare grabbed his ears and pulled them down over his face. "Looks like it's gonna be a crisp autumn day today," he continued, bounding into the kitchen to grab a bowl from the cupboard.

"It's too early," Meyer mumbled.

"No way, man, my shows are on!" Arnaud replied. Meyer heard the sound of groceries being put away, the crinkling of the paper bags feeling extra loud in the small apartment. "Why didn't you pull the sofa out?" Arnaud asked

"I forgot," Meyer lied. He had been too tired to even think about going through the rigmarole of setting up a fold out bed.

"Well, it might not hold all of you but it'll certainly be a little more comfortable than," he gestured with his hand, "all of that." Arnaud threw the pantry open and stared intently for a few minutes at his collection of fruity and sugary breakfast cereals before settling on some crunchy berry nonsense, pouring himself a big bowl. "You want anything for breakfast? Lots of options."

"Beer?"

Arnaud frowned. "Meyer, it's not even 8 in the morning."

"I'll live."

"I won't. What about eggs and toast?"

Meyer lifted his head off his pillow and narrowed his eyes. "That sounds...really good actually."

"Well, I've got eggs, and I've got bread, and a fully functional kitchen," Arnaud chimed helpfully. "My home is your home. Help yourself!" he said, pouring the milk into what was clearly almost a salad bowl's worth of breakfast cereal, certainly more than the serving size on the box.

Meyer stood up, realizing he was wearing the same clothes as yesterday, and started digging around in his duffel bag for a pair of sunglasses. He threw on his aviators, grabbed his cigarettes and lighter, and limped for the balcony, which immediately prompted Arnaud to make a scoffing noise. "You really should quit, y'know!" he chided.

"Yeah, yeah," Meyer muttered, sliding the balcony door open and shutting it behind him. The briskness of the fall air hit his nostrils and felt like it pierced his brain, and he shivered, partly because he wasn't dressed for the weather and partly because of the hangover. Shaky fingers drew a cigarette from its case and shaky hands lit the end of it. Meyer took a big drag and exhaled, leaning over the balcony railing and staring down at the town.

Low clouds had rolled in overnight, blanketing Hollyhawk in a cottony fog that seemed to be burning itself off as the sunlight hit. Meyer could see some god rays in the distance over the reservoir, and as he took another drag, he turned his gaze east of town where the "better half" lived.

Where his parents lived.

It, too, was blanketed in a thick coat of fog. The view of his parents' place was blocked by the wall of the adjoining apartment (thank god, he thought), but he could see the extraordinarily maintained golf course they lived on through the haze by its bright green hues. He ashed his cigarette over the railing, watching the little flecks scatter into the air, before taking another drag and exhaling smoke into fog.

He needed time to gather himself. Maybe a job would help him get together enough for a place to stay that wasn't the Twelve Oaks, but Arnaud's couch was comfortable enough for now, he figured. But how would he eat? He couldn't live on breakfast cereal.

Speaking of, he thought to himself, turning around to look in through the sliding door. Arnaud was on the couch now, big bowl of cereal in lap, watching an episode of The New Adventures of Captain Cottontail. Meyer smirked a little, remembering how he grew up watching the original show as a kid, had the secret decoder ring, how his ninth birthday was Captain Cottontail themed, right down to the superhero costume they'd purchased him to wear, and then he frowned. He couldn't kill the adult in his head. He could hear his father saying how ridiculous it was for a grown man to watch cartoons.

Where was he at right now? In a high school friend's apartment, smoking cigarettes on the balcony because he'd just been thrown out of college for cheating his way to success instead of just being satisfied with middle of the pack. And he couldn't be satisfied because no Hasenkamp could be anything less than the ultimate expression of success, he remembered. The thought jarred him loose and all the collegiate anxieties crept their way back into his brain like worms on the cement after a hard downpour. He took another drag from his cigarette and crushed half of it out on the railing before stepping back inside.

Meyer must've slammed the door a little too hard because Arnaud jumped in his seat. "You okay?" he asked.

"No," the hare replied. "Listen, uh, can I use your shower?"

"You can use whatever you need, My. My house is--"

"Yeah, I get it. Thanks," he said, unzipping his duffel bag and rummaging around for his 2-in-1 shampoo, his toothbrush, and a spare pair of underwear. He zipped it closed hurriedly, darted into the bathroom, and nearly slammed the door behind him.

Arnaud waited a few beats before setting his bowl down and getting up to go to the bathroom door. He knocked a couple of times. "Hey, just for future reference, towels are in the hall closet, but you can use the one hanging on the wall; it's clean."

He got no reply. Hope he's doing okay in there, he thought, hearing the water kick on. "Toothpaste is in the medicine cabinet, too, if you need it."

Hearing nothing, he went back to the couch. He'll sort himself out I'm sure, he assured himself. Besides, there was Captain Cottontail to watch and breakfast cereal to gorge on, and just because he had company (a temporary roommate he reminded himself) didn't mean he was going to give up his Saturday morning routine.

About fifteen minutes went by before Arnaud had barely noticed the water had shut off. The cereal bowl before him sat empty, which was, as he saw it, merely an invitation to go get more cereal. As he got up, he heard the bathroom door open, and out stepped Meyer wearing nothing but a pair of blue and orange boxer briefs. As the hare came towards his bags, they hugged his body a little too closely and Arnaud found himself staring a bit too long before looking away sheepishly.

Meyer didn't notice. He was moving sluggishly, mostly on account of the hangover. He threw yesterday's clothes next to his bags. "Is it okay if I get dressed out here?" he asked.

"Y-yeah, it's f-fine," Arnaud stammered. He hadn't really seen Meyer even close to nude since they shared a gym class in high school; it was pretty apparent that he'd grown a bit since then. "I'll just be in the kitchen," he said, ostensibly rinsing out his bowl but mostly letting the water run as he watched Meyer pull on a pair of jeans, then a baby blue v-neck shirt, and finally a maroon cardigan.

Arnaud left his bowl in the sink. Suddenly, he didn't want cereal.

He tried picking his books off the ground before he felt a boot in his backside, shoving him flat to the ground. He hit his chin on the pavement, glasses nudged off and clattering across the ground. "Bend over much?" said the possum. "I just bet you do, you fuckin' fag."

"Fuck off, Jason" Arnaud replied. There was a warble in his voice, and he felt his emotions get the better of him. He tried and failed to swallow them; he sniffled.

"What, you're crying now, too? Jesus Christ," his tormentor laughed. "You're pathetic!" Arnaud had reached for his glasses but not fast enough; Jason nudged them with his foot, sending them skittering farther away. He delivered a swift kick to Arnaud's ribs, knocking the wind out of him. He curled up into a fetal position and started wheezing.

"You heard him, Jason. Fuck off." came a low, very angry voice from behind the both of them.

"What're you gonna do about it, stilts?" the possum scoffed. "What's he to you, anyway? Your boyfriend?"

"Don't you have anything better to do than beat up ninth graders?" Meyer grabbed him by his shoulders and shoved him into the wall. He towered over the possum, and he could make out a little fear in his eyes. "Now, if you're looking for a fight, I've got time to kill between periods, and I love knocking the piss out of people my own age."

"F-fuck you, man," Jason whimpered. "Ain't worth this shit." Arnaud had mostly recovered at this point, making it to his hands and knees, crawling over to where his glasses had landed.

"You're so right, man, it really isn't," Meyer replied. "Don't fuck with him again or I'll come find you."

The possum strolled off, shaken and deterred for now. Meyer bent over to pick up Arnaud's spilled books and shove them back into his backpack. "Sorry about that guy, he's a prick," Meyer said, extending a hand to the aardwolf.

"Y-yeah," Arnaud said, taking it and clambering to his feet. "I, uh, got that impression," he laughed.

"Meyer," said the hare, introducing himself. He stuck out his other hand with Arnaud's bookbag in it. "Here you go."

"Hi, Meyer. I'm Arnaud," the aardwolf replied, taking his bag back.

"What's with you?" Meyer asked. He happened to notice Arnaud frozen, water still running in the sink.

"Nothing, nothing," Arnaud replied, seemingly coming unstuck enough to shut the sink off. "Just not hungry anymore."

There was a silence in the room. Arnaud helped to fill it.

"Well, D'artagnan's isn't open until like...four-ish. So we've obviously got time." Arnaud went back into the living room and turned the TV off. He didn't feel like watching cartoons anymore, either. "We can go for a walk, we can hang out here...well, you know how it is in Hollyhawk," he said.

Meyer sighed. "Yeah. I do." He rubbed his temples.

The aardwolf's demeanor changed suddenly. Meyer thought it looked...softer? "You obviously had a rough night. Let me make you breakfast," Arnaud said, smiling.

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